I don’t remember the songs that they sing
On the benches in parks on the first day of Spring
‘Cause I sold all my pleasure to follow the King
And I lasted alone til you took of your ring.

But the blossoms of nature have one thing in mind:
For to call bees of honey, their pollen to find.
Oh and when they have wedded they wither because
Everything goes to where everything was.

Because everything goes to where everything was.

And so what if I brought you flowers?
And what if I wrapped you in my waxen wings?
And what if you took all my powers,
Bound them in bellows, and made them to sing to you:
Dee, dee ah dah, dee ah do, dee ah deh,
Dee ah dee, dee ah dah, dee ah do, dee ah deh.

Now in summer the berries fill bushes and vines.
Of these there are jellies; of those there are wines;
And of others a humour that conquers men’s minds.
Oh but these are the rarest and dearest to find.

For they burst from their corners in rosily hue.
In all of my days have I found only two.
And they bloom in a valley where once I have been:
Down below your bright nose and above your white chin.

Down below your bright nose and above your white chin.

And so what if I brought you flowers?
And what if I wrapped you in my waxen wings?
And what if I kissed you for hours?
What is the penance for succulent things
Such as these?

Oh, but I can remember when I was a boy,
And the earth was a wind; the rain was a joy.
And I never had heard either heaven or hell.
But I knew there was love and I knew it full well;
Up until I did something I tremble to tell
And it hurt every time that they rang the church bell.

There’s a man who is looking for me on the run.
I have broken his heart; he has loaded his gun.
He is rightly enraged over what I have done.
If the two of us meet there shall stand only one.

And an angel is coming to take me away
To the land of the dead, to the great judgement day
Where my songs and my sorrows hold nary a sway
And I’ll stand before Jesus with nothing to say,

I will stand before Jesus with nothing to say,

But what if I brought you flowers?
And what if I wrapped you in my waxen wings?
And what if I kissed you for hours?
How can one weep over succulent things
Such as these?

And when I awoke in the white White sea
An unbearable whiteness was waiting for me.
It opened beneath me; it lifted me high.
Oh and where was the water, and where was the sky?
Now my senses betrayed me. I drifted to sleep
And felt on my face what no mortal can keep.

Now I wake in the morning to singing and bells
Having spent all my money on hidden hotels
In the wonderful world where the two of us dwell.
If we step out the door we’re already in hell.

There are two books of scripture for any to read.
The one is a word, and the other a deed.
And behind every crime is a wound and a need
Where the form and the content have never agreed.

Oh so hear me, you young men who walk in the heat.
I shall not tell you where to direct your own feet.
But and if y’ shall stroll in another man’s orchard,
The fruit y’ shall pick y’ shall lead into torture.

For when ye have tasted her down to the seed,
Ye shall drop her in sorrow and leave her in need,
So that later, when children inhabit her hips,
She shall spit out your name like a curse on her lips.

She shall spit out your name like a curse on her lips

And say:
Why did he bring me flowers?
Why did he wrap me in his waxen wings?
And who shall restore me my powers,
Bind up my bellows and teach me to sing, again:

Dee, dee ah dah, dee ah do, dee ah deh,
Dee ah dee, dee ah dah, dee ah do, dee ah deh.